Losing Grip
by Mrs. Soul Evans
Summary: Soul Eater Fanfic. Soul x Maka. SoMa. Takes Place Shortly After The Anime Ended. Soul Would Do Anything For His Meister, But How Can He When He Can't Even Transform? He's Trying His Best To Make Up For His Mistakes, But How Could Maka Ever Forgive Him If He Can't Even Forgive Himself. He's About To Lose Grip And Nobody's There To Catch Him.


**Author's Note: This Is A Fanfiction Based On The Anime, Soul Eater. Couple: Soul x Maka. This Takes Place Shortly After The Anime Ended. NOT The Manga.**

**Also, For Anyone Reading My Other Story, Remember Me, I'm SO Sorry I Haven't Been Updating. :c I'm Writing Right Now And It Should Be Up In A Few Days, I Hope.(:**

**Chapter 1: Losing Grip**

I laid there silently, dazed, staring up at the roughly-painted, white ceiling watching the blades of the fan spinning round and round in rapid circles while a million thoughts raced through my mind. My crimson eyes squeezed shut and I struggled to hold back a tear, but to no avail, and let out a long sigh as it trickled down by cheek. Opening my eyes, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and met the cold, wood floor with my toes. I sluggishly made my way down the dark hallway to the kitchen, but not without stopping at Maka's door- if I listened closely I could hear her soft breathing and somehow, this just made the pain in my chest grow stronger. "I'm sorry..." the whisper barely escaped my lips.

It wasn't my turn for breakfast, but I felt it was the least I could do, and I was already up anyway. I sluggishly hobbled into the cool, empty kitchen, scavenging for a clean pan to use. After a few short but tedious minutes of searching, I soon found the correct utensils and set them aside for later use. _Now, for the food._ I went to the fridge, smiling at the magnetic picture of Maka and I, happy, like we used to be. We were so close. Then _that_ happened. I can't remember the last time she's smiled at me. She won't even look at me. But maybe this breakfast thing would bring that smile back. A longing sigh escaped my lips. "A guy can only hope."

Shaking off the paining memories I pulled open the old, white doors of the fridge and rummaged around a little, moaning in displeasure at the sight of nothing edible, except for a carton of orange juice and a half-eaten ham sandwich.

"I guess I'm going shopping then," I sighed in a coarse whisper, annoyance clear in my voice, "this is so not cool."

"But I'll do it for that stupid meister of mine."

Walking to our apartment door, I stopped to grab a fancy looking cook book off of a shelf, which shared a space on the bookcase with about a million more._ Maka and her stupid books_. I don't see how a bunch of paper can be any more interesting than music; yet she hates music. I guess that's just another thing that pushes us apart.

Trying my best to ignore my deepening depression, I skimmed through the thin, old pages of the book, coming to an immediate stop when a beautiful, white cake caught my eye. It was covered with intensely detailed frosting and other decorations including juicy, red strawberries that were carefully placed along the edges of the masterpiece. I could feel my mouth watering at the thought of the delicate pastry. I licked my lips and ripped the page from the book, "_perfect._"

* * *

The dark streets of Death City were cold and empty, unlike the usual familiar sounds of rushed footsteps and loud calls from street vendors. _I guess it's earlier than I thought... _But I couldn't just lay there in that lonely bed anymore. I had to leave. Get all this crap off my mind. Distract myself from my stupid emotions. I kicked a rock, shoving my hands in my pocket and puffed out some air, watching the warmth of my breath mix with the icy atmosphere and form a little white cloud in front of my face.

Honestly, she doesn't even need me. I'm just a burden. She's a weapon _and _a meister. She's perfectly capable of fighting on her own while I, the one who's supposed to protect her with my life, can't do a thing. I can't even transform anymore. I'm just pulling her down when I want nothing more than to help her. She almost... A pool of salt dripped down my cheek. I'm worthless. I bet that's what she thinks of me. But she's all I've got and I have to hold on to that. It's the only thing that keeps me going.

I pushed open the frosty, glass double-doors and stepped through, listening to the irritating little bell chime three times before it finally shut up. I looked around, but couldn't get a good sense of direction, so I just picked a spot and started walking. Shopping isn't really my 'thing'. Not only was I completely lost, but I could hardly see where I was going, though I had convinced myself that my blurry eyes were from my lack of sleep and not the salty water that threatened to overflow and stain my cheeks.

"Girls enjoy this?" I said to myself, picking a box of strawberries off the shelf and tossing it into my cart a little too roughly, letting a few tiny red fruits drop between the grating and onto the tiled floor. I whistled past the mess nonchalantly and made my way to the next aisle, where I grabbed flour, sugar, eggs, and so on, glancing at my ripped sheet of paper every few seconds.

The shopping went faster than expected, which made sense, as the store was completely deserted, but who knows, maybe having a list actually does help.

"Looks like someones making strawberry shortcake. Let me guess, an anniversary? Birthday? No, I bet it's for your girlfriend, isn't it? Or a boy, I don't know what you crazy kids are up to these days." The little old lady at the cashier babbled on, asking a million questions but failing to wait for an answer. _Old people sure do talk a lot..._

"No, ma'am, it's just for a friend." I said through gritted teeth, forcing a smile as I cut off her annoying chatter for a few moments. "Ohh," the elderly woman started with a smirk, "I see." Rolling my eyes, I grabbed my bags and hurried into the cold, starless night, focusing on the sound of my footsteps rather than Maka, but even that was impossible. She's always on my mind, but I don't even cross hers unless she's thinking about how much she hates me. But I don't blame her. I hate me too. Nothing can make up for what I did. _Nothing._

The salty water was pouring from my dark, remorseful eyes and left my face feeling frozen as the cold wind blew against my damp skin, but I continued to run, determined to do this small service in hopes of seeing that smile one last time before I let go. I was losing grip and she was the only one that could save me.


End file.
